


When Doves Cry

by WaytooHaughtforCandles



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: After the betrayal in season 2, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clarke's goin bat-shit crazy, Clexa, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Lexa is so patient how does she do it, Slow Burn, casual murder attempts, the wonders of nature, the world may never know, warning: may contain feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12894660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaytooHaughtforCandles/pseuds/WaytooHaughtforCandles
Summary: "How can you just leave me standing?Alone in a world that's so cold?"Another post-betrayal fic.





	1. Hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings and salutations. Before we begin:
> 
> -italics is a flashback or memory.  
> -forgive me for making Clarke an angsty fuck.

It was a funny thing, hatred. Clarke had thought she was an expert on the particular subject. She'd thought she'd experienced enough of it, to recognize the burning, the heart heavy as stone, the red haze flickering in her vision.

She was wrong. 

Within the time she had spent scavenging, cowering, running like the prey of some sort of unnamed beast, she had learned the following truths of the cursed emotion:

1\. It latches on without warning. A repulsive, gnawing thing. A parasite. 

_Lexa's face was different. She willed her surroundings to come into focus, and the blurred edges sharpened. Blood. It was scattered across the alluring features. Mingling with the smeared paint, the commander facade. A mask. Jumbled shouts and creaking armor of hundreds surrounded her. Eyes which once held endless warmth were turned grey. She couldn't tell for sure, but she thought something close to tears coated them, threatened to escape._

_"What did you do?"_

2\. It is virtually nonexistent in it's early stages. Shock, confusion, the world swirling around, the overwhelmed host the axis, distract from it's growth. 

_The world spun. Betrayal. The word hovered in the corner of her mind, repeated in a meaningless spiral over and over again. She fell to her knees, fallen leaves breaking her landing, hands clutching desperately at either side of her head. Gasping. The death of hundreds, their blood on her hands. With that many, it overflowed. poured onto the ground beneath her._

3\. It feeds on sorrow. On the feeling which tears one to pieces. On the tears streaming over dirt streaked cheeks and down the slope of a chin. On a wobbling lip, on broken sobs and wrenching screams thrown to the forest which leave the throat aching for days. On the throbbing pain buried deep inside that you just can't, _can't_ escape.

_It had been a week. Or she guessed it had_ _been a week. A week of haunting faces. Gunshots, madness in the dark. The icy touch of metal as she pushed it down, slowly. She couldn't stop reliving the memories, seeing the bodies twitch and writhe through a monitor. Seeing intricately braided hair and a cape as red as blood trudge away without mercy. It didn't come to her attention that she was crying until a tear landed on the filthy fabric covering her leg. Her chest heaved, and she became aware of the noises escaping her. They were the sounds of a mutilated heart. She shouted, felt it tear at her throat. Let herself scream blindly into the ever-listening trees, until no noise came out._

4\. It takes over if lingered on for too long. A twitch in the soul, and it begins to seep out. Liquid the color of ink, oozing from the heart, flowing through the host's very veins. Boiling, catastrophic, lethal, the embodiment of the monster of shadows children imagine in the corner of their room in the dead of night. Unappeasable, unyielding, burning through until it replaces the blood which once flowed so surely.

_It was her fault. Lexa. Lexa who had kissed her with gentleness one would never_ _expect from the commander of the thirteen clans. Lexa who had spoken in soft, poetic phrases. Lexa who seemed only capable of the ghost of a smile. Lexa who had left her people for dead. Lexa who thought with her head and not her heart. Lexa who did it. Lexa who made her, forced her to pull the lever. To kill. To murder. To end the lives of innocent children, families, people with dreams and interests and romances and passions. It was all. Her. Fault._

5\. It is more powerful than anything else known to the earth. It clouds thoughts, sight, the very control of one's own body.

_She saw her everywhere. Fleeting images of breathtaking eyes. Graceful hands. The turn of a flowing coat. They only ebbed her on. Curled her lips into a snarl, furrowed her brows until she would snap again. Whirling, wasting her limited energy. Bringing her knife to stab the ground, leaving marks in the nearest tree, scratching her throat raw again. Blurring her vision with angry tears that stung her face when they escaped._

6\. It has no cure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so we've begun another. (I really must stop starting fics while I'm in the middle of others)
> 
> This should be getting updated fairly regularly. Shoot me some thoughts in the comments.


	2. Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.”
> 
>  
> 
> ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday folks.
> 
> ****** indicates a change in POV or time.
> 
> Enjoy.

The days were a gloomy task. Golden patches of sunlight fought their way through the leaves and it infuriated her. Here she was, a ragged, torn mess in the middle of a masterpiece. She recoiled, sulked in the shadows where she allowed the flashes to strike her down, invisible wounds to leave her shaking. 

_She couldn't stop the shuddering of her hands. The blood wouldn't come off. She sobbed, desperate, broken, breathing labored. The blood wouldn't come off. Her skin was raw, pink, screaming. The blood wouldn't come off._

She turned a rock over with the toe of her boot. Didn't bother wiping away the paths left in the dust on her face. Nobody was there to see her cry.

_She had expected the blood, the festering welts, the convulsions. She hadn't been prepared for their tortured moans, aching cries of children, mothers. For the little girl with hazel eyes that slowly lost their focus, tears streaking down her cheeks._

In the arrogant sunlight, she clenched her fists and let the pain land blow after bow on her. But at night, at night there were the dreams. Pale, hazy, fogged scenes sent from the mercy of her own mind. She escaped the torment of her ghosts when the darkness drenched all colors in shades of black. Her fingers twitched and she curled closer into herself.

_The light danced in fragments over the subtle raise of a brow. Her gaze tried and failed to avoid the tempting feature of unfairly soft lips. If there was anything she had learned of the seemingly unreadable Heda, it was that her eyes were an open book. They flickered now between each of her own, unsure, glazed. She took a breathe, and the unforgettable scent of floral soap, pine trees and something that was purely Lexa greeted her._

"Clarke" 

It was the ghost of a whisper, as if she'd imagined it. But it was achingly familiar. Her eyes flashed open as thunder crashed and she became aware of the pounding rain. She stared into the never-ending night, waiting for the time of forgotten regrets to end.

******

The word had slipped from her lips without her permission. It tasted of something bittersweet, the almost forgotten click in the back of her mouth. Too late now, to stop the name from tumbling out. She padded away with the stealth of one who had known the trees for many lives. Drenched, every cell begging to be closer, she watched Clarke turn, weight held on her elbows, oceans for eyes teeming with the pain of thousands.

"Soon" She whispered to the pouring rain. To the broken girl who grasped at air when lost to the benevolence of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn these two are angsty. Tell me what you thought in the comments. Should I keep going with this one?


	3. Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I scream for everything that has gone wrong. I scream for everything broken in our lives.”   
> ― Marie Lu, Champion

_Love is weakness. She repeated it, mumbling blindly, turning the bitter words over and over between her lips. Love is weakness and the proof is in her dreams. The parted lips of her niron lined with dried blood. Love is weakness and she knows it is because Costia is still achingly beautiful when her eyes are empty and lifeless. Love is weakness and she believes it because the open wounds still smell of death and the thump of the barely opened package hitting the floor still sounds when she dreams of the moment that has ruined her heart. She can still feel the lump in her throat but she swallows, because love is weakness and Heda does not cry._

Lexa shifted on her branch, felt the rough surface with the tips of her fingers. Love is weakness and yet, here she sat, desperately seeking to know if Wanheda lives. Love is weakness but somehow one girl had led her to abandon her duties. She sighed, scanning the ground.

The guilt. She was familiar with the feeling, a constant ache. She was responsible for too many lives for kill scars. But this was different. She knew of the guilt but Clarke did not. Clarke was young and full of light and unprepared for the crushing weight, and Lexa had thrown it onto her shoulders _._

She heard her before she saw her. Careless rustles from shuffling, heavy feet as they shoved the fallen leaves aside. Only one with no care for their own life made those noises in a forest. Despite her own protests, her heart sped, hopeful. 

_From the moment she saw her, she knew Clarke was a leader. Made_ _for it. She was strong, demanding, endlessly loyal to her people. Her bravery shined through everything she did. But she hadn't considered that maybe Clarke was a little broken too. She stared as Clarke's hand shook, knuckles white as she grasped the gun, as her eyes filled with tears, her mouth a tight line. It occurred to her that Clarke was not accustomed to death. It occurred to her that her leadership started with a crash, and the pressure of leading in an unfamiliar and unwelcoming world was not made for such a young, beautiful thing._

_"Did that make you feel better?"_

_"No."_

She couldn't stop herself from gasping, almost slipping from her perch as Clarke stumbled into a patch of light below her. She was barely recognizable. Hair mangled and streaked with red, cheeks dusted with grime, clear paths left from tears. Clothes torn and soiled. She held her shoulder as she trudged, feet heavy. There were scars and scrapes littering her body, and Lexa shook her head gently as she noticed a long, deep one going down her cheek, tauntingly similar to one Costia had once worn. Her gaze shifted. Her eyes, puffy and unfocused. They once blazed with determination, full of life.

So this is what she had done.

Clarke seated herself upon a half rotten log, staring at her hands, turning them. Her shoulders shook. Lexa looked away. Love is weakness and Clarke is the proof, but it only made her want to run to her, take the broken girl in her arms. 

She only returned her gaze to her when she felt the first drops of rain land. Clarke was asleep, her breathing even. For the first time since seeing her, she looked at peace. Lexa crept to the ground, traced her face with her eyes. The rain began to pour harder, increasing to a steady pounding. Through the thundering of the storm, Lexa heard it. A half-formed mumble, pushed through cracked lips as she slept.

"Lexa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't tell, this is Lexa's view leading up to and through some of the previous chapter. 
> 
> More to come soon!


	4. Broken Sounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Most people die but others just go  
> She's still out there and the chasm grows"
> 
> -Tall Heights, Spirit Cold

_Clarke felt utterly and truly alive. Adrenaline turned her blood to gold, shining with the raw, unfiltered light streaming through her fingers as she held a hand to the sun. No more cages, no more cool metal walls. No more darkness. Her lips parted on their own. Barely letting herself believe all the green she was seeing, her mouth slowly, cautiously formed a smile, a barely present chuckle forcing it's way out. She filled her lungs, the air no longer stale and tinted. For just a second, she let herself breathe, bask in the subject of her dreams, drawings, daydreams. Then the moment was over. There was work to do if they wanted to survive._

Clarke licked her lips lazily, squinting at the grime on her hand as she blocked the sun. It occurred to her that the dull ache in her stomach was her own fault. Hunger. She attempted to tell herself something, the ghost of some motivational phrase on her lips, but her throat was dry. It came out cracked, raspy. She got halfway through her own name before the coughing fit started.

 _There was a constant, slightly irritating buzz which came from the_   _monitor. She ignored it altogether when she first entered the room. The second she pushed the chilled metal of the lever down, she silently wished, begged, prayed for that buzz to get louder. To drown out the coughing, choking of the innocent._

Arms wrapped tightly around herself, she internally cursed. She was crying again. That's more water wasted, she thought, as she rocked herself back and forth, throat throbbing.

******

There was a sort of choked, broken sound, and Lexa lifted her head where she sat, a stray wisp of hair falling from where it curtained her eyes. The coughing began and she nicked her finger, the dagger she had been toying with almost falling to the ground. She crouched, prepared to hurry down, to ensure the safety of the sky girl.

_Clarke's eyes were filled with tears and it took every ounce of her strength not to let her own fall. There was a dying spark of hope, a determined disbelief that was_ _fading in Clarke's eyes which somehow made it harder to force her own words out, to betray the girl who had kissed her back in the quiet of a tent. To betray the girl who's hair glowed when the sunlight fell in patches upon it. Voices rang out around them, but they were blurred. Clarke lifted her head and her next words came out as ice._

_"Your commander made a deal"_

Lexa swallowed, ignored the stinging at the tip of her finger. The coughs subsided to a soft, quiet type of sobbing. There were tinges of regret, grief in the rocking of Clarke's body, and Lexa wanted only to replace Clarke's arms with her own where they clung desperately to her sides. She closed her eyes, refused to let her emotions control her. She was here for Wanheda's safety, and that was all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the briefness of this chapter. 
> 
> Any and all comments and kudos are welcome!
> 
> More to come soon.


End file.
